


Dead in the Water

by herondalesandwinchesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, M/M, season 10
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-05 18:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1827655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herondalesandwinchesters/pseuds/herondalesandwinchesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dean Winchester is transformed into a demon, he forgets all of his troubles and lives the rogue, feelingless life that a Knight of Hell should live. Meanwhile, Castiel knows what Dean is. He's helping Sam and Charlie to find him, but doesn't really know what to do with his life anymore. When their paths collide the consequences are horrible; but is their profound bond stronger than anyone had ever anticipated?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Season Nine spoilers.

Black as night, his eyes shot open; staring up to the ceiling as Crowley’s croaking voice flooded the room. He felt lighter, as though a great fog had been lifted from his being, it felt almost flawless, but something was missing. There was a great void inside him that he couldn’t explain.  
His soul.  
It was no longer intact. His memories swam back to him in a blinding manner – the Mark of Cain, the struggle against the power of the blade, the person he was turning into, the feeling that he’d let his friends down – but he still felt nothing. He didn’t have a clue where Sam could’ve been, and he simply didn’t care.  
“Let’s go take a howl at that moon,” Crowley’s words echoed in his ears, rippling through him like a shockwave. Dean sat up slowly and blinked a few times, trying to adjust himself. He remembered the angel blade as it had plunged into his chest. His life had ended, for what felt like the millionth time. He had seen that road in Heaven again; the one he’d seen years ago with Sam. He’d held the wheel of the Impala firmly in his hands and steered his way through memories of the past – except now all of that was gone. And he didn’t feel anything. He was empty – as though the blade had hollowed him out like a pumpkin at Halloween.  
“What happened to me?” he spoke flatly, turning to face Crowley. Though he lacked emotion, he suddenly felt devious in a way he never had. He remembered how it had felt, torturing those souls for Alistair in Hell – he had loved every second of it. Now, sitting here on the bed, he longed for more. He needed something – lusted for it.  
“You’re a Knight of Hell, Dean,” Crowley smirked, “You’ve replaced the creature you set out to kill.” Dean knew what he meant. Abaddon. The bitch had been murdered only a few weeks earlier, and Dean felt good about it. The power that had surged through him when holding the First Blade was permanent now. He felt that power as a constant, rather than a rare occurrence. Then he realized what he lusted for. His blade.  
“Where is it?” he snapped at the King of Hell, his eyebrows scrunched together, “Where is my blade you son-of-a-bitch?”  
He found his hands grasping near the collar of Crowley’s jacket. A silent storm was growing inside him; so silent that even he couldn’t make it out. He hadn’t realized that he’d gotten to his feet, nor that he’d made his way across the room to Crowley – let alone that he was now holding him in the air by the collar.  
“Moose left it in the warehouse,” Crowley’s ragged voice droned on, “You can transport yourself there right now, Dean. You just need to think of it and you’ll–”  
Dean never found out what Crowley had to say, for he had already dematerialized in the bunker and rematerialized in the warehouse. He was standing in the exact spot where he had sat earlier that evening, crumbled against the wall in a helpless fashion as Metatron had pierced his skin. He hadn’t cared; he was glad that his life was coming to an end. It was better for Sam. Sam. How could he have forgotten, for even a moment? His little brother. But to think of him, it was like thinking of a famous painting. He could never hug his brother again – could never think of him in a loving way; for all his brother was, was the opposite of himself. Sam was good. He was human, he’d sacrificed everything to become an honest, good man. And Dean had tried, he’d tried to be as kind and helpful as his brother. Then the blade had come along, and Cain had passed his mark on.  
The parchment coloured walls and boxes surrounding Dean towered over him, but he didn’t feel small. No, for once he didn’t feel powerless. Just empty. Still, he wandered over and sat in the spot where he’d been stabbed, and more memories flooded back to him. Memories of a time when he’d travelled to the future and found his little brother being possessed by the Devil. Sam was meant to be the bad one, Dean thought, I’ve saved him from it.  
Now Dean was alone in the world, a world that wasn’t even his own, trying not to think of the one person that he actually could feel something about.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- When Castiel left the prison area of Heaven’s headquarters, he felt an unwelcome pang in his chest. Dean was dead. He’d never even had a chance to tell him, never had a chance to hold him in his arms one last time – the way Dean had held him in Purgatory. Having told Hannah that he just wanted to be an angel, he knew everything he was giving up. He’d tried so desperately to be human, for Dean. But now, it was useless. There was no point in his humanity. He’d be an angel or he’d die, and either one would be less painful than the thought that he’d never see Dean again. He had tried not to think of Sam as he’d made Metatron’s hidden agenda public; the poor lonely Winchester, left with nothing but a bunker and some lost memories of a brother he once had. Cas had a feeling about Dean dying this time – he wouldn’t come back. He was too far gone with the Mark of Cain that there was no retrieving the man he once was.  
There was a time when Castiel wouldn’t have cared. Dean Winchester had been nothing but a righteous man, unworthy of spending an eternity in the underworld, and it had been Cas’s duty to save him. He remembered clearly his descent into hell, wings spread proudly over the demon scum surrounding him. He remembered the way he’d unlatched Dean from the chains and hooks weaving through his skin. Lifting him out had been the best part, for Castiel felt that he’d finally achieved something with his angelic life. He remembered visiting Dean later, and everything after.  
The night he had found himself drunk in a motel with the boys, the night with the pizza man and the babysitter. Blissful memories, now worthless; because Dean was gone, and he was never coming back.  
He didn’t feel as though it had sunk in yet; he wasn’t as upset as he ought to be. But he knew it was coming, he could feel it looming over him.  
He desperately wanted to go to Sam, but figured the boy would be too broken apart to even think of talking at this time. A knock sounded at the door of Castiel’s office. He didn’t know who to expect. Probably Hannah, he thought.  
“What do you want?” he slumped down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking to the ground.  
“We want you to lead us again, Castiel. We are thriving, and it’s all because of you. Please, be our God. You can redeem yourself,” Hannah spoke firmly. Cas had always found her voice irritating; more so than any other vessel. But, alas, here she was in his office, and he had to deal with her.  
“I’m just an angel,” Cas almost whispered, “I don’t want to be a God. We’ve already talked about this.”  
“Yes, but…”  
“Leave, Hannah. I’m not interested at the moment,” he leaned his head back and closed his eyes as the door clicked shut behind the other angel. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel anything about Dean since he’d found out, nothing too serious. But now he was alone, and he was free to break down.  
And that’s exactly what he did. His heart writhed in pain as he collapsed forward onto his knees and heaved, sobbing desperately as the truth began to sink in. His humanity was catching up with him. As an angel it would be almost impossible to feel such feelings, but Castiel was there on all fours, crying painfully to the ground. “Dean…” his voice was coarse as he whispered. Suddenly the unimaginable was upon him. Dean couldn’t come back this time.  
Dean, the boy who’d become a man in the time Castiel had known him.  
Dean, the drunken idiot who saved the world.  
Dean, the loving big brother.  
Dean, the man who was willing to give up freeing himself from Purgatory for Cas.  
Dean, the only person Castiel had ever felt true feelings towards.  
He bowed his head and cried.


	2. Somewhere Else

THREE MONTHS LATER  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Any leads?” Sam ran his fingers through his hair, looking at Charlie expectantly. She’d returned from Oz a few weeks before, after hearing of Dean’s problem. It wasn’t easy to track a Knight of Hell and the King of Hell on your own, so Sam had asked her for help – and he was sure Dorothy wouldn’t mind. Charlie looked up from her iPad and shook her head solemnly.  
“Sorry, Sam,” she spoke quietly. When Sam’s eyes fell to book sprawled open on the table, she reached across and touched his cheek. Sam’s eyes flicked back and forth between the words. He’d found ways to summon Knights of Hell, but only previously existing ones. Nothing like Dean. Charlie’s hand fell away and Sam looked up. She was staring at him, “We’ll find him,” she said soothingly, placing her iPad down on the oaken table.   
“I have to kill Crowley,” Sam grunted. “He did this to my brother.” His face was going red with anger; he could feel as his cheeks heated up and his jaw locked. He was holding back so many feelings.  
“Cas isn’t back yet, remember,” Charlie shrugged, “Maybe he’ll find something.”  
“He’s hardly an angel anymore, Charlie. He’s our friend, but he’s hardly useful,” Sam rolled his eyes and got to his feet, pacing back and forth across the bunker. He thought back to when Kevin had died here – and it’d been Sam’s fault. Gadreel had possessed him, and Metatron had ruined everything. Taken a life far too early and the blood was on Sam’s hands, no matter what Dean tried to tell him.   
Traces of his brother and the young prophet were left behind. He would often come across an old Game of Thrones box set and remember a time when he, Dean and Charlie had sat on a bed together to watch. And as for Kevin, the entire library was a constant reminder of the boy whose life they’d ruined. Charlie cleared her throat and Sam spun on his heel to look at her, “We’re all grieving, Sam.”  
“I know, and I feel terrible because Cas is probably the worst of all of us right now and I’ve sent him out on a demon hunt. He’ll never find them, and he’ll get upset and frustrated and he’ll come back to us crying and telling us how he’s let Dean down,” Sam ranted. Charlie leaned back in her chair and rubbed her forehead.   
“Of course Cas would think that,” she shook her head, “He’s Cas. He cares so much about Dean. Or, I think he does. It seemed like it in the books. And since I came here. I don’t know. I don’t really know Castiel, I can just tell that he’s broken. Since Dean left, he’s not been the same.”   
“He hasn’t been,” Sam looked to the ceiling and sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. This felt worse than it had when Gabriel had tricked Sam into watching Dean die several times, making him relive that day over and over. Gabriel. “Have you seen anything about summoning an angel?” Sam’s eyes had widened now, as though a gleam of hope had crawled into them.   
“I think I did,” Charlie scrolled the screen up to where she’d read it, “It involves a lot of sigils. And I mean a lot. And a remote building. And maybe some holy fire. Sam, what are you thinking?”  
“I think I know a way to find Dean.”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
So far today, Castiel had ventured all over Russia, Britain, Ireland, Norway, Sweden, Finland, and now he was in the Netherlands, still searching for even a clue that the demons had been there. He’d made his way into Amsterdam, scanned the Red Light District; the only logical place for Dean to be, but he was nowhere to be seen. He made his way around the city, it was the only place in the Netherlands that he hadn’t searched. He was giving up hope, more so every second that passed. He stopped in a café and took a seat in the furthest corner, asking for nothing but a coffee and a doughnut.   
It wasn’t that he needed to eat, so much as he was so confused that the only thing he could think of doing was eating. The window next to his table was wide, and expanded across the entire wall. Castiel stared up at the sky – sunset, it was earlier than usual. It seemed that the sky’s blue-green colour was the most beautiful thing Castiel could imagine. It was such a peculiar colour. Utterly breathtaking. The green reminded him of Dean’s eyes, and it took him a moment to process a thought as those eyes polluted his mind; he probably wouldn’t see those eyes again. All he would see now was black. The eyes of a demon. He rested his face in his hands and shook his head. He had prepared himself for when he would see Dean, and prepared himself for the shock it would be – but this was no longer Dean. This was Mark-of-Cain-Dean, a horrible remnant of what he used to be. It terrified the angel to the core. He didn’t want Dean this way. He, like Sam and Charlie, wanted Dean, the person he had been before this whole ordeal.   
This was a lost cause. He closed his eyes and transported to the next country. It was handy, having his powers back. Maybe, if Dean didn’t return to him, he could move on; save a new innocent soul from the pit and make a life with them. But it wouldn’t be the same. No-one could replace Dean Winchester. Now he was in Latvia. A peculiar country, but beautiful.   
Europe had been difficult, but it had also been the last place he’d checked, which meant he could return to Sam and Charlie. He wanted to take a moment. There was one place he wanted to visit before returning to them. He closed his eyes and imagined the swing park, where he and Dean had sat upon the benches. He’d disappeared that day, leaving Dean alone. Now he understood what it felt like, he guaranteed that he would never do it again.   
Dean could be anywhere. Just around the corner, or half way across the world. For all Castiel knew, Dean could be in Hell, and that was one place he didn’t intend on returning to. It wasn’t even worth the risk. The thought of Dean being miles away made his heart ache slightly. He took a seat on the bench where Dean had once sat and sighed. It was getting easier to accept that his friend was gone, but the wound would never fully heal. “Where are you, Dean?” he spoke to the sky, as though Dean would be looking down on him. Idiot, Cas thought, He’ll never come back. How far away was he? It didn’t matter. Cas sat there in silence, embracing his distance from everything.   
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Jesus, Cas, you scared us,” Sam jumped as Castiel materialized before he and Charlie. “Any luck?” he said hopefully. Cas brushed off his trench coat and shook his head. He made it clear by his stance that he was not in the mood for small talk. Sam wondered how Castiel was feeling, really feeling. Was he okay? Obviously not. Did it have something to do with his bond with Dean? Obviously. Was it more than the bond? Possibly.   
“We’ll find him,” Charlie repeated, but Sam couldn’t focus on her words.   
“I couldn’t find him anywhere,” Castiel’s head shook again.  
“Where did you look? You were only gone for an hour…”  
“Everywhere. Plus a quick stop,” he croaked. Sam watched as Charlie’s eyes widened at the sound of the angel’s voice. She’d asked Sam how Castiel’s voice sounded over and over, as in the books the coarseness was described vividly. “I don’t know you,” he squinted his eyes at her. She giggled slightly. Only Charlie’s laugh could lighten the mood, Sam thought.  
“I’m Charlie,” she smiled, “Big fan.”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The Kergeulen Islands were stunning, Dean thought as he and Crowley wandered the desolate land. Mountains grew tall over the deserted lands – it looked the way Dean had imagined Mars to be in his youth. Crowley looked at Dean sideways, then chuckled. “What?” Dean rolled his eyes; he was doing that a lot lately.  
“You look like a lost puppy, Squirrel, that’s what,” Crowley was still laughing. Dean scoffed and walked further ahead, “Wait.”  
“You said there’d be naïve people here, people stupid enough to get in my way. Where are they?” Dean was gesturing to the mountains and then to the ground, much to Crowley’s amusement.  
“You need to be humane, Dean,” he explained, “You’re bloodthirsty. Your lust for it is compelling, really, but you have to wait. Every now and again. Otherwise people get suspicious.”  
“Yeah, easy for you to say. You tried to kill everyone Sam and I saved–”  
“A year ago, Squirrel.”  
Dean turned to face the other demon with a menacing scowl sprawled across his freckled face. “Blade.”  
“Not yet,” Crowley shook his head. Dean couldn’t help but feel angry at Crowley’s lack of sympathy. He surely understood what it was like to be a newborn demon. It was daunting, really. Not having any feelings other than bloodlust and slight fear of minor things. It had been three months, and he’d yet to bump into Sam or Castiel. Maybe that was the reason they were in one of the most isolated places in the world.   
This was the first time his brother had crossed his mind since the day he’d left with Crowley. There’d been more to think about – killing, bribing, tricking. As daunting as the life was, it was one worth living. Forever. He was immortal now. “When, then?”  
“Not yet,” Crowley repeated and looked away from Dean, up at the sky. “Your angel is coming. We’d better go.”  
“Castiel?”  
“No, the bloody devil.”


	3. Dance with the Devil

The Islands looked different from the last time Castiel had visited. This never-ending search for Dean Winchester was beginning to wear him out, but he knew it had to be worth it. Dean. His best friend. No, Castiel chastised inwardly, he’s not that Dean anymore.  
They’d been here, he could tell. Traces of sulphur and threads of a flannel shirt; it had to be them. Castiel remembered a time when he had worked alongside Crowley to become God. It had all gone to plan, and then gone so wrong. It was his fault Dean went to Purgatory. His fault Sam and Dean even discovered the angel and demon tablets. His fault Dean had ended up with the Mark of Cain… if only he hadn’t been so naïve. Why had he ever trusted Metatron? This was pointless thinking. He had to be productive. He took a moment, high in the mountains. Breathtaking.   
“How long have you been standing there?” he asked without turning around. He didn’t know who was behind him, but someone was there.   
“Long enough,” Hannah whispered. Her voice was so clear. Castiel wouldn’t miss it anywhere. “Any sign of your human?”   
She knew that Dean was a demon now. She knew fine well that Castiel was not in the mood to talk about Dean to anyone but Sam and Charlie. She knew that Castiel wasn’t interested in her plans for him. Why did she have to keep bothering him? Rather than lashing out, he shook his head and began walking down. Not that he needed to, but he wanted to.   
“It’d be easier if you were God,” she pressed. He shook his head again and picked up his pace, “Castiel, if you were God you’d be able to see everything, everywhere. Even in the demon realms. Think about it. You’d find him in an instant.” She was trying to sell this idea to him, he knew he shouldn’t even be considering it. But this was Dean. He felt like all he was doing these days was shaking his head, and he wasn’t about to stop. He did it again.   
The crumbling mountainside was difficult to balance on, but as he got further down he grew used to the feeling of rubble under his feet. Hannah was still following after him, like a lost puppy… or a piece of gum that got stuck to the bottom of your shoe and refused to get off. “Will you stop following me any time soon?” he rolled his eyes as he stopped on a ledge. He was growing tired, his powers were wearing thin.   
“Not until you realize your full potential. You could save us, Castiel. You wouldn’t even need to worry about your grace. We can all see, you’re ill. You’re not getting any better. You can’t thrive off a stolen grace. Becoming God; it would cure you,” she urged. Castiel stared at her. “And you’d find Dean.”  
Before he could speak, she continued, “We all remember when you saved him from Lucifer’s keep, and we all heard those words. Every single angel. ‘Dean Winchester is saved,’ you’d said. Anna, our dear sister, even she heard you. You care about Dean more than anything – which is truly ridiculous, if you ask any of us – but maybe that could be your ammunition. You want him to be human again, which is virtually impossible.”  
“I know of ways,” Castiel looked to the ground.  
“I doubt that. Just think about it.”  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Sam looked like a dorky idiot when he slept. Charlie couldn’t help but laugh as the taller man snored and spluttered in a midst of dreams. She couldn’t imagine such a masculine man sleeping this way. Saying that, she’d never really seen a man sleep, only women. She thought of Dorothy and the wonderful evenings they’d spent together. It was only then that she realized how she missed Oz. It still felt weird to think that – she was dating Dorothy, the Dorothy. And she was more beautiful than Charlie could have possibly imagined. She wondered if Sam ever thought of women like this, thought of past loves or hoped for a future. She’d read all about Jessica, his unfortunate first love; how the girl had lit up like a bonfire on the ceiling of his bedroom, just like his mother had twenty-two years earlier. This family is messed up, she thought. She’d known that from day one, though.   
Others didn’t realize the impact losing Dean had had on her. It was like a part of her had been stolen and hidden in a place deeper and darker than the Mariana Trench, like something important was missing and could never be returned. It reminded her of how she’d felt when her mother died. She’d only met Sam and Dean four times, but those boys had changed her life; they’d introduced her to a real world of myth and fantasy, helping her wildest dreams to come true. Dean was like the twin brother she never had – they were two peas in a pod, so alike in every way possible… even with taste in girls. She’d never be able to discuss things like that with Sam.  
Poor, reserved Sam, who was now drooling. She felt so sorry for him. He’d lost his brother, and now he was making himself look like an idiot in his sleep. He looked vulnerable. She played with a lock of her red hair, plaiting it and unplaiting it; twisting it and curling it in her fingers. It was so easy to get distracted in the silence.   
It had been two hours since they’d sent Castiel back out to search the more remote areas of the world, and there was still no word. She kind of hoped that he’d return soon, just to keep her company. This was the first time Sam had slept in days, there was no way she would disturb him. Instead, she picked up her iPad and went to a fan forum of Game of Thrones, hoping to find spoilers for the newest season. “Oh, man,” she breathed as she scrolled and scrolled through the search results – nothing.   
It was times like these where fan forums were the only places she could turn. Whether it be for Doctor Who, or for the Supernatural books or even Lord of the Rings; it always helped calm her down. Either that or read The Hobbit, but she’d left her vintage copy at home, and couldn’t bring herself to purchase it on the iPad.   
After a while of not finding anything new, she locked the iPad and placed it quietly on the table, making her way, silently, to the bathroom. The light wouldn’t switch on. She kept pulling the string and the light would not go on. She couldn’t disturb Sam, but she was desperate. She turned to run back to Sam and was met by someone else entirely.  
“Dean?” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She took a step back, “Dean, what are you doing here? This place is warded how…?”  
“Spoilers,” croaked an unfamiliar voice from behind her old friend. “Now, Miss Middleton, may I ask what it is you and Moose hope to achieve in looking for Dean?”  
“We want to find Dean…”  
“I can speak for myself, Crowley,” Dean smiled. It was a cold smile. A shiver ran down Charlie’s spine, “Why? I’m not the Dean you knew anymore. This is much more fun.”  
“Have you seen Castiel yet?” Charlie whispered, she wouldn’t dare wake up Sam, she was too afraid.   
He looked taken aback, but regained his composure. Or maybe it was just her imagination. “No, and I don’t intend to,” he spoke lazily, “But take this as a warning. If you keep trying to find me, I’ll kill him. I’ll kill Castiel. And if you tell Sam I was here, I’ll kill you.”  
Charlie’s heart dropped as she nodded and Dean and Crowley disappeared from the premises. How could she tell Sam to give up without giving away that she’d seen Dean? Would he really be cruel enough to kill her? She pondered back into the dining room and took her seat again, shaking with nerves. She never thought she’d see the day that Dean Winchester threatened to kill an innocent.


End file.
